Philadelphia

I have visited or lived near Philadelphia on numerous occasions. It is familiar to me in many ways and unfamiliar in others. There seems to be a condition that I find both engaging and troubling about it. On one hand, the stress of an uncomfortable and unpredictable climate, poor road maintenance, crime, and poverty seem to together to add enough stress to make for a city of interesting conversationalists. There are also beautiful natural and architectural masterpieces to include a sense of history reminiscent of European cities.

It is no accident, in my mind, that great beer, coffee, and food compensate for the stress of the environment.

It is my first visit since Axel’s death and I enjoy the good will of his many friends and admirers by extension.

Just the same, I am unsure whether I am safe here as it would seem that I attract persons who believe that my apparent good will and health mean that I am a fruit ripe for the picking. It is all a mirage however, much like the sense in Los Angeles, that everyone is in some form a participant in show business. Since my self-confidence is a sham, I fit right in. My smile is my parasol.

5 thoughts on “Philadelphia

  1. Pingback: Philadelphia | Manosphere.com

  2. Oh my…I live in northern Delaware about 50 miles SW of Filthy. We avoid the place like the plague that it is.

    Be very, very careful in that crime ridden dump. A little over 10 years ago, the last time I was in center city, I met friends at a well known Italian eatery and escaped town alive because of my martial arts skills and 1911 Colt .45. Three booger thugs in a parking garage quickly realized I was the bigger threat and disappeared.

    A word to the wise and all that, dear heart, White women alone in public are at extreme risk.

    • I have heard so many stories like that, such that I don’t take chances. What gets me is perfect strangers who feel somehow entitled to tell me how they feel about a) my clothes; b) my packages, c) my hair, etc., as if by entering the city I’m inviting myself for public consumption. It’s either that, or it’s a distraction and so I tighten my grip on my belongings. I turn on my “rude San Franciscan” persona and move on.

  3. Who are these people to judge? Unhappy, or insecure in their own lives? I am a recluse, of almost no means, and often travel with the confidence of one that is rarely noticed, nor hasseled.

    Your experiences are interesting, and I would like to donate to your cause.

    Sincerely,
    Simulacrum

    • I suppose that the day that I decide not to attract the attention of amateur critics will be the day I cut my hair. Of course your donation is more than welcome even if, perhaps, it is a lost cause.

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